Roses In December
by Salve-SiS
Summary: Wishing-Fire's Memories Challenge} When you're in a relationship with someone, some moments are bound to stand apart from others. Or, eleven moments detailing Klavier and Apollo's time together.


**Roses In December**

* * *

_"God gave us memories that we might have roses in December."_

_-J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922_

* * *

_II. Curiosity_

It is curiosity which drives him to take the State vs. Kitaki case. He is curious about Apollo Justice from even before their first meeting in People's Park. How could he not be, Klavier tells himself. This was the man responsible for his brother's incarceration, a greenhorn just out of law school without a single case to his name, and he somehow managed to take his brother down in a way the blonde would never have thought possible. He has to-no, he needs to know more.

His first impression of the man is of someone who seriously needs to get out more, if his hair and fashion sense was something to go by. Not that he doesn't look good, Klavier notes their first day in court together, but if Herr Justice wants to be taken seriously, he should at the very least look into changing his hairstyle so he doesn't resemble a chicken.

He expects his curiosity to be satisfied by the end of the Kitaki case, but instead it expands once he sees the man at work. He has the usual nervousness and fumbling of a new lawyer, but he somehow manages to catch the prosecution's witnesses in lies Klavier would have never caught himself, and he is able to successfully prove Alita Tiala as the true murderess of the case (with Klavier's help, of course). Klavier notices many times during the trial, Herr Forehead rubs at the skin below that odd bracelet of his almost every time before he correctly accuses the person on stand of lying. Are these things related? He doesn't know, but he wants to.

He invites Herr Forehead and Fraulein Trucy out for his concert. While Trucy takes the band as he expected she would, Herr Forehead spends almost the whole time grimacing and rubbing at his ears with faint annoyance. He isn't the first person to react negatively to the band, but Klavier can't help the frankly surprisingly strong dismay threatening to overtake him. For reasons unknown even to him, Apollo's opinion of his music actually matters. Who is this man, to invoke such a strong reaction from him? His curiosity only deepens further whenever he catches the younger man staring at him, as if he considers him as much as a conundrum as he does him.

For some reason, the thought pleases him.

* * *

_V. Friendship_

Apollo finds him alone in a random cafe, fiddling with the small piece of chocolate cake in front of him. He has an uncharacteristically closed off expression on his face, and before he realizes it he is making his way over to him.

Klavier, once he catches sight of him, straightens up and flashes Apollo a warm smile. "Herr Forehead! What a small world it after all, ja? What brings you here?"

If Apollo hadn't seen the way the other man had been slouching and pretty much wallowing in sorrow, he might have fallen for Klavier's act - except not really, because even now there's something off about the way he's smiling at him. He decides to play along, for now anyway. "I was just heading home when I realized I could go for some coffee. What are you doing here?"

The way he says it, it's like he owns the place. Apollo cringes mentally, but Klavier flashes him a look of genuine amusement. "You could say I had a...stressful day at work today. Don't worry, I won't bore you with the details."

"Who says I'd be bored?" The words tumble out of Apollo's mouth. He makes no effort to stop them. "Maybe I want to hear about it."

Klavier raises his eyebrows. "Ja?"

"Sure," Apollo shrugs as he takes the seat across from Klavier's. "I mean, we're friends, right?"

Okay, he definitely hadn't meant to say that. Sure, he and the blond prosecutor worked together sometimes, and they sometimes (not often) hung out outside of work, but the former was mandatory and the latter Trucy was always with them. And sure, they shared that brief moment after Clay's death, but that didn't necessarily make them friends...

...did it?

Klavier, for the wildest of moments, looks dumbfounded. Apollo wishes he had a camera to capture the moment, because such an expression on Klavier's face is rare. After a few seconds he regains his composure and smiles again, and this time it fits naturally onto his face.

"Yes, we are," Klavier answers. "Very well, it started after I came to work in my car, because my hog is on the fritz..."

* * *

_IX. Pity_

Apollo doesn't like talking about it, but he knows he has to when Klavier invites him out to a club with his old band mates, and Klavier's expression falls when Apollo says he can't for the fifth time in a row. He's always turning down dates to bars and clubs, to the rock star part of Klavier's life, which he knows disappoints Klavier more than he likes to let on, and he deserves an explanation as to why. He invites Klavier out for a walk around People's Park, and tries to decide how to tell him.

He doesn't know how else to say it other than bluntly. "I'm an alcoholic."

Klavier's eyes widen, and it seems like he doesn't believe him at first, judging by the smile Apollo sees threatening to overtake him. But then he must realize Apollo isn't joking, and he stops in his tracks, looking stunned. "Was-I mean, since when?"

"Since I was sixteen." Apollo bows his head. "I was-a pretty stupid kid. I went to this party with Clay, and someone offered me a beer. I thought to myself, 'what the hell? It's not like I'm gonna make a habit out of it.' Next thing I know I'm chugging down at least three a day just to get by. It took me six months before I finally wised up and got some help. Been sober ever since."

Klavier is silent for several seconds. "…I would never have guessed."

"It's easier now," Apollo says. "But I'm scared I won't be able to say no if I go to a club and someone offers. And I can't tell anyone I'm-well, you know-because then it's like I turn into this whole other person who needs to be fuckin' pitied."

Do you pity me? The question passes between them unanswered, but clearly felt by the both of them.

Klavier shrugs, a small, understanding smile on his face. "Everyone has demons they carry in life. If it was not alcoholism, it would be something else. For me, it is the fact both my brother and best friend were murderers."

Apollo lets out a deep breath, tentatively returning his boyfriend's smile. "Right."

* * *

_VI. Lust_

Klavier's always liked girls. Even as a child, he would oftentimes lose himself in the waviness of their hair, or the brightness of their eyes. Becoming a teen meant that appreciation for their beauty became tinged with desire. On the flip side, he'd never really looked at men _that way._ Sure, he could tell when a man was considered handsome by others, but he never really paid their looks that much attention. A man was just…a man, same as him. Nothing special.

At least, until he met Apollo.

He finds himself watching intently whenever Apollo runs his hand through his dark brown hair with that cute, flustered look on his face, or whenever he has that rare confident expression on his face, his arms crossed and his stance straight. He feels something inside his stomach uncurl whenever he hears him laugh during the time they spend with each other out of court, and he finds himself unconsciously inching closer to him as they walk around the town together. It doesn't hit Klavier just _why _he's observing the man so, until one day in court Apollo lets out a loud_ "OBJECTION!" _and the prosecutor is hit with the insane, familiar desire to dash over and smash his lips against his.

He doesn't have a problem with liking men-it is more it's simply unfamiliar territory for him. He's used to wanting to run his hands over a woman's breasts. Not so much to the desire to have a man's legs wrapped around his torso as he kisses his neck and face incessantly. He's more than willing to it, though.

Now, just how to make that picture into reality...

* * *

_III. Happiness_

It's a month after the Misham Trial. For awhile Apollo felt...tired, for the most part, as if he had just finished this big battle, though he knows Mr. Wright did most of the figurative fighting, in this case. It wasn't pleasant to see his old mentor again, but luckily Trucy is there to distract him with some magic trick she picked up from one of her books, always, always smiling. It doesn't take long for him to put the trial behind him and for life to go back to normal-or as normal as life with the Wrights can be, at any rate. He doesn't stop to consider how life is going for the other side, until he's called back to court and he sees Prosecutor Gavin for the first time in a month.

His bracelet starts humming the instant his gaze lands on the older man. On the outside, he is as cool as ever as he approaches Apollo with a light smile, but Apollo very distinctly sees his hand twitch as if about to fly up to his head and play with his hair like he so often did when nervous. "Guten Morgen, Herr Forehead!" Prosecutor Gavin greets him swiftly. "I thought I'd pop by and check in on the defense-I had no idea who they were, though now I wish I had taken the time to find out."

"Er, hey, Prosecutor Gavin." Apollo never really knows what to say to the guy, especially when they're alone-which isn't that often. In fact, it's never. He's surprised by how the tiredness in his eyes seem to fade the longer he gazes at him, and he realized with an internal jolt that he's_ happy _to see him. He tries for a friendly smile. "How's...how are things?"

Prosecutor Gavin's smile doesn't even waver. "Ach, things have been better, but they could be worse, ja? I have been spending most of my time in my place of work, it's been awhile since I've had a night out, if you can believe it. Of course, you probably can."

"Are you okay?"

_Are you happy? _The thought comes unbidden in Apollo's mind, but he finds himself wondering how Prosecutor Gavin has been handling the aftermath of the Misham trial. Apollo's had Trucy, Clay, and to a small extent Mr. Wright to talk stuff and (occasionally!) goof around with, but Gavin's best friend was in jail, his band was broken up, and his brother was a psychopath. Who does he have on his side?

"...Ja, I'm fine."

Apollo doesn't need his bracelet to know he's lying, but it's not his business, and Prosecutor Gavin obviously doesn't want to talk about it, so he lets the topic go.

* * *

_X. Despair_

A 34 year old Apollo Justice sits in the waiting room, his hands slightly trembling as he strokes his daughter's hair. Sitting in his lap, the ten year old has her head buried in his chest, her back heaving every few minutes or so with muffled sobs. Besides them, his thirteen year old son is flipping through a magazine almost angrily, until he finally throws the magazine aside and begins pacing. His hands stuffed in his pockets and his leather jacket flapping behind him, he couldn't remind Apollo more of Klavier if he tried.

It was a drunk driver. Ha, wasn't it always? Klavier had been coming home from work late when some idiot ran a red light and crashed into him. His family had gotten the call about half an hour past midnight, and they'd been staying at the hospital ever since. It was now eight in the morning, and there was still no word on how he was doing.

Finally, Apollo's son kicked one of the chairs aside and growled, "Dammit, what's _taking _them so long?!"

"Language, Emil." Apollo scolds him tiredly out of reflex. "And pick that chair up now, before the staff sees it."

"Who cares about _language, _Dad? Vati's in the freakin' _hospital!" _Still, Emil obeys his father and sets the chair back up before collapsing into it with a kick at the floor.

Apollo's daughter shudders. "Vati's going to be okay, r-right Dad?" She removes her head from his chest to look up at her father with wide, frightened eyes.

Apollo knows he probably doesn't look much better, but he still answers, "Of course he is. He's going to be just fine. Just you wait."

"How long do we have to wait?"

"Don't worry Morgan," Emil answers before Apollo has the chance to. The redhead smiles in a way that's more like a grimace and says, "Vati's tough. He'll make it through. Right, Dad?"

"Right." Apollo says. He finds himself glad his children don't have his ability (though how could they), because otherwise they would have clearly seen the way he bites his lower lip in worry.

They still notice.

* * *

_IV. Rage_

He's throwing chairs, books, whatever he gets his hands on. He feels both sick satisfaction and nothing at the loud, shattering crashes which grow more and more rapid in sequence the angrier he gets. He doesn't remember what set him off, all he remembers is that Clay is dead, dead, _dead,_and nothing with be the same again.

He shouts and screams to the heavens until his voice cracks and tears of utter rage at the injustice stream down his face, and he collapses to the floor with a defeated sob. He isn't aware of the pair of strong arms which wrap around him until he hears words he can't understand being whispered into his ears, but he knows it's supposed to be comforting by how softly Prosecutor Gavin says them. If this was any other day, Apollo would be embarrassed beyond words, but this isn't a normal day, so he allows himself to cry as hard as he can, not thinking of the consequences this will have on his relationship with the prosecutor.

Luckily for him, in time they will prove to be good consequences for the both of them.

* * *

_I. Lost _

Klavier has no idea where he's going. His cell phone rings unceasingly, he vaguely guesses it's either Daryan or his agent calling to make sure he's ready for the trip tomorrow to kick start his new career as a rock star, but he makes no effort to pick up. He still can't believe he's doing this-going on tour when he's only just begun his career as a prosecutor-but then the memory of his debut kicks back in, and he can't wait to be on the plane.

Eventually though he knows he has no choice but to go back to his apartment, and he heads over to the bus stop at the corner, sitting himself down at the bench. He puts in his headphones, cranks his player up to full volume, and begins jigging his leg to the beat. He is not aware of the young boy stumbling over to the same bench, his hand gripping tight onto his other arm and his cheek decorated with large thin cuts, until his song is over and by impulse he glances at his left.

He jumps. "Mein Gott! What happened to you?"

The boy looks young-maybe thirteen, fourteen-but his eyes seem so much older when he glances at Klavier. He shifts his eyes to his front, and he says, "None of your business."

"You look hurt. What happened?"

The boy doesn't look at him. "Not your business." He repeated.

"I happen to work in law enforcement." Klavier insists. "Tell me who did this to you, and I can make a call."

"You?" The boy sounds disbelieving. "No offense, but you're what, sixteen, seventeen? I doubt the police are hiring that young."

Klavier briefly considers the possibility of telling this boy the truth, but decides against it because he doubts he will believe him. Instead he continues with his original line of questioning. "Did a gang member do this to you?"

"Dammit, what part of _'none of your business'_ don't you get?!" The boy shouts, standing up to glare down at Klavier. "Just leave me alone, will you?!" With that, he flops back down on the bench and shifts his body further away from the other teen, his entire figure emitting a crackling aura of annoyance.

Klavier watches this boy for a few seconds, before leaning against the back of the bench and saying, "Do you ever feel as if you know where you want to go, but you have no idea how to get there?"

The boy is spared from answering when a bus comes to a halt in front of them. The boy gets up and heads over to the bus, but before he climbs into it he glances back at Klavier and answers, "Yeah."

He enters the bus, and doesn't hear Klavier's soft "Me too."

* * *

_VIII. Laughter _

"-Wait, you mean-"

"Ja, I do." Klavier leans against the wall, fiddling with one of the many rings on his fingers. "When I asked if I could talk to the cute brunette who worked here, I meant you of course."

Apollo gapes at him, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Klavier would find it cute, if he wasn't busy trying to control his racing heart. When was the last time he felt this affected by a person?

Finally, Apollo snaps his mouth shut and glares at Klavier. "I am not cute!"

Of course that's what he'd focus on. Klavier sighs. "Herr Forehead," he says. "Perhaps you'd like to know what I wanted to talk to you about...I would like it very much if you would agree to a date with me."

Apollo stares at him, and then laughs.

Klavier's spent weeks obsessing over this, and he doesn't like how easily Apollo seems to dismiss his feelings. "A simple no would have sufficed, Herr Justice."

"N-no, wait!" Apollo throws out an arm to prevent Klavier from leaving. "That was-I was laughing out of _relief. _I didn't-I wasn't sure if you felt the same way, so I never said anything-I wasn't saying no."

Klavier looks him over, a smile growing on his face. "So it's a yes, then?"

"Sure," Apollo says. "As long as I get to pick the place."

* * *

_VII. Confused _

There is a knock on the door. Apollo's scrubbing the toilet and Trucy's practicing for her next magic show, so Athena gets up and opens the door to reveal Prosecutor Gavin, smiling brightly at her. "Hey, Prosecutor Gavin!" She says. **'Bonjour!'** Widget chirps from her neck."What brings you to our humble abode?"

"Ah," Athena feels a spike of nervousness as Prosecutor Gavin plays with his bangs. "I was wondering...perhaps I could speak with the cute brunette who happens to work here." He winks playfully, but his nerves stay as spiked as the Boss's hair.

Athena nods. "Okay, wait just one sec." She slams the door shut and hurries over to Trucy, who has one hand in her hat. "Hey Truce, Prosecutor Gavin's at the door for you!"

Trucy quickly removes her hand, revealing a small plush bunny in her grasp. "Really? What does he want to talk about?"

"Dunno. He just said he wanted to talk."

Trucy goes over to the door and pokes her head out. Athena watches her talk with the blond prosecutor for a minute before she turns back to face Athena with a huge smile on her face.

"Oh, Apollo," Trucy sang. "A certain someone wants to talk to you!"

No. Way.

Athena watches dumbfounded as Apollo comes out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. He seems confused as Trucy tells him Prosecutor Gavin is at the door, and suspicious when he catches sight of Athena's face, which probably doesn't look too good, but he shrugs and goes to the door, leaving the two girls alone.

"You're _kidding," _Athena whispers to Trucy as the men talk outside. "_That's _what Prosecutor Gavin finds attractive?" Not that there's anything wrong with Apollo, but-really, Gavin?!

She decides to chalk it up to one of life's many mysteries.

* * *

_XI. Healing _

He has two broken legs and a fractured arm, along with countless cuts and bruises on his face and chest, but he'll live. It's two weeks before Klavier can go home, and they have to lift him up the stairs to do so.

"How long do you have to sit on that thing?" Emil asks, frowning at his father.

"Until my legs heal, which will take many weeks." Klavier looks up at Apollo, who pushes him along the hallway. "I will need a nurse to help me do things like bathe and well, _eat, _until then-do you think you can handle the task, Justice?"

"Do I have any choice?" Apollo rolls his eyes. In the corner of his eye, he sees his son slip away from the scene, leaving his parents alone in the hallway. "It's a good thing our room is on the first floor. I don't think I love you enough to get you up the second floor."

"Your words, they hurt," Klavier put the back of his hand on his forehead. "I think it more likely you _couldn't, _with your muscles." Apollo flushes, pushing his husband into their room. It's a struggle to get Klavier propped on their bed, but he does so, though the action leaves him panting a bit. Klavier smiles at him a bit smugly, and Apollo buries his head into his pillow.

"Remind me to start going to a gym sometime this week."

"Nein. I don't want you to get an unfair advantage while I melt into pudge waiting for these to heal." Klavier grimaces down at his legs, then glances at his arm.

"At least you're alive," Apollo says. "The doctor-well he said there might have...you might have..." He can't get the words out; he doesn't want to.

Klavier's eyes, previously shining with mirth, fade to a gentle sympathy. "Schatz...I promise, I am not going anywhere."

"You can't promise that," is all Apollo can say before his face crumples. Klavier wraps his good arm around Apollo's back, and the shorter man falls into his embrace and presses his face into the crook of his neck. He breathes in, taking in the pure scent of Klavier Gavin. "Is it weird of me that I don't want you driving ever again?"

"No. Impractical yes, but not weird. I feel the same way about you and the kids, at times."

The blond then gently pushes his husband away so distance between them is restored, and, gazing down at him with those bright blue eyes of his, kisses him. Apollo returns the kiss just as softly, his last thought before losing himself to this wonderful, healing bliss being that he hopes to God they closed the door.

* * *

**::End::**


End file.
